


Da Bible: the Epic Testament

by BadHorse413



Category: Christian Bible, That Guy with the Glasses/Channel Awesome
Genre: M/M, so we do a little trolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadHorse413/pseuds/BadHorse413
Summary: the new book of the bible just discovered. Gay Donald Trump unleashes the sneak deadly gangster frankenstein controls and brings about the nazbolpocalypse alpaca ellipses for eternal lifetime permanent forever, and there is no end. The End.
Relationships: Link/Linkara, Linkara/Nostalgia Critic, Vegeta/Ronald Reagan
Kudos: 1





	Da Bible: the Epic Testament

I’m Donald Trump, and I’m gay, and I approve this message

My name is gay Donald Trump. I was born five thousand years ago, from god’s brazilian waxed pussy itself/godself. I was born on the lord’s day. You know what day that day is right? It’s a trick question. Every day is the lord’s day. The lord created the week at the beginning of time, and after a few days, invented days.

It was a snowy and rainy and sunny day in North Pittsburgh where I live with my many animals, friends, and families. I was listening to my favorite band, gay Linkin Park, and eating my favorite food, gay pasta. I’m gay. But more important to me than being gay, is my undying love for the love of my wife, and shortly after that, my wife. But I’ll tell you what’s not *shortly* after her, my penis. Because believe me baby, it’s bigly. It’s tallly. It’s tally hall ruler of everything. Because my wife aint’ no horsetickler or cuckfondler, she’s the one and only Andrea Dworkin, number one horse tickler in the Entire World, two words. Me and her and me and my son yoda and her son jeff bezos and my daughter Andrea Dworkin live together all four of us in the great state of pittsburgh, I already said we live in Pittsburgh you bitch, did you forget already? We’re about consitency here. Constituency. Confectionery. Conststirstji FUCK DGSAFDS GODA DMMIT. Listen

I’m the president of the united god damn states of god damn americ god damn a. it’s spelled consitency now. That’s what we’re all about. We’re all about that con, that sit, that ency, even though he ran over my dog. Fuck you Ency. I don’t care if you’re heckin cute and valid, Encies don’t exist. Because I killed them all. With my big ass truck. Let me tell you about my truck

My truck is named Johnston L. Powerbottom. It was invented by 100 gecs, and it goes by ce/cir pronouns. When it hears me calling it it it itches like crazy and tries to scratch itself with me still inside. Did I mention that my truck has a giant beefy arm that it can use to scratch against itself? If you answered yes, you failed. I didn’t mention it. I just fucking started talking about my truck. It’s not pleasant when the scratching happens. Especially since my truck is made entirely out of chalkboards and noise amplifiers. Plus all 100 gecs are still inside and they all have ear infections so if I misgender my truck I have to deal with 199 ears leaking blood (one of the gecs is Van Gogh). Then, the blood fills up the truck and spills out onto the road, causing a city-wide flash blood.

**Everything Is Futile**

These are the words of the Teacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem:

“Futility of futilities,”

says the Teacher,

“futility of futilities!

Everything is futile!”

What does a man gain from all his labor,

at which he toils under the sun?

Generations come and generations go,

but the earth remains forever.

The sun rises and the sun sets;

it hurries back to where it rises.

The wind blows southward,

then turns northward;

round and round it swirls,

ever returning on its course.

All the rivers flow into the sea,

yet the sea is never full;

to the place from which the streams come,

there again they flow.

All things are wearisome,

more than one can describe;

the eye is not satisfied with seeing,

nor the ear content with hearing.

What has been will be again,

and what has been done will be done again;

there is nothing new under the sun.

Is there a case where one can say,

“Look, this is new”?

It has already existed

in the ages before us.

There is no remembrance

of those who came before,

and those yet to come will not be remembered

by those who follow after.

You know who wrote that? Shake spear. The first caveman. Before that, spears were for sticking the heads of Irish and indigenous people on. Shake invented spearing them. Wait, I mean. Spear invented shaking shakes. Shake shook spearmint shakes in Venice. I think that last one was right. Also I think the sticking heads on sticks are pikes. Not to be confused with the slur. Slurs are not particularly confusing. END OF SEASON 1

END OF BOOK 1

END OF EPISODE 1

BEGINNING OF SEASON 2

DAWN OF A NEW GAY

69 HOURS REGAYN

69 hours Reagan. That’s my name. You wanna know why I’m named 69 hours Reagan? Me too. #mewtoo. I was just going to see my best friend and lover, gay donald trump, when I got caught in a flash crip. The flood tored me away to the beach far away, where I met my best friend and lover, Vegeta. Vegeta was eyein the drip from the moment he saw me. I was dripped out. I was droop out, like I did of college. I was droopy. My cock was Not Bad either. I was wearin the johny cash slut boots, the solid gold panty hoes, the evanescence t-shirt, and a hat that said “fries”. Vegeta was lookin at me with lust. They shoulda called him Frui instead of Vegeta. But bles and t aside, and bulls and tea on the side, let’s get back to the subject at hand. My penis. That was the subject. And the hand was Vegeta’s hand.

Vegeta was jerking me off like a jamaican and jerking me off like Jack Link. And Jacking me off like Link. “ara ara” said link, before jacking off linkara and jacking himself into the mainframe until he was linked in to the linkedin jack. He was a jack of all trades.

Linkara is here too. He’s with the nostaligia critic. He was arguing about power rangers. It’ll be out when its out, he said. It’ll be out when its out. Suddenly, it was out. And he put it into nostalgia critic’s assshollle. “OUUUCHHIE WAWA MY GAY ASSHOLE” screamed camille nostaglia, the true killer of the black dahlia, true thriller of fanfiction hetalia. Nostalgia critic was getting bummed like a ciggy, and it was really something to watch. But it wasn’t something good to watch. I don’t think so at least. I wasn’t watching it. I was watching the tides because I’m on the beach, getting jerked off by vegeta. Suddenly, an army of bulls drinking tea came out from the waves. Luckily I was watching the waves in hopes that I was secretly David Hasselhoff. But I didn’t get out in time, and I was hassled off to Vegeta’s summer home, along with Vegeta, Linkara, Nostalgia Critic, and Link.

“Don’t worry about the bulls” said Vegeta, homosexually, “they’re with me.” Linkara and Nostalgia Critic continued having gay sex. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t want to sit around here with all the fruits and vegeta bulls.

Then I was shot by a guy who wanted pussy from Jodie Foster and I died and went to hell. The end of all books and chapters forever. Homestuck 2 isn’t canon.


End file.
